David Hyde Pierce is lovable. There’s a vulnerability and a wry humor that’s totally endearing; from the moment he steps on stage, the audience is with him. This proves to be almost a liability as the play progresses. The show opens with Pierce, as Nate Martin, delivering a very long monologue about how lonely he is. This is delivered in such a conversational tone, it seems to glide. Easy to understand why this actor has won both an Emmy and a Tony; he’s just that good. This is a difficult play to understand, and at times, it’s even off-putting. It takes someone of Pierce’s ability to draw the audience in. Nate is a gay man in New York City, which should be a lot easier than it actually is. True, he’s had a lot of boyfriends, but he yearns for a real love connection. He’s beginning to wonder what life is all about. He’s reached middle age, and still finds himself adrift emotionally. Is he unable to connect? Can he ever open up and give himself completely? Nate is growing desperate; he turns to his astrology chart for answers. He also believes a prediction that once told him he’d be coming into wealth and something golden. Shortly after hearing this, his parents give him their old car, to make up for the wedding they’ve given his sister. They presume this isn’t going to happen for Nate, so they need to compensate financially. The golden thing is a blond man Nate falls for; the relationship was heavenly for a while. Nothing seems to help Nate find his way, not even his therapy group. He keeps a long list of things to do; it never seems to get shorter, but rather, it keeps growing with things he must, but never does, accomplish. There’s a pleasant break when Nate gets together with his best friend, Curtis (Brad Heberlee). They sit together in the park, talking and ogling the attractive men who jog by. Nate feels motivated to go back to the gym; he loves everything about the experience, except for the actually exercising. But when he returns to his apartment, the entire play abruptly shifts focus. Nate dies of a heart attack. He sits slumped over for what seems like an eternity to the audience. Absolutely nothing happens on stage. A lot. Not surprisingly, after waiting to see what happens next in the scene, and figuring out that nothing does, the natives get restless. The coughing, fidgeting, and even chatting clearly indicate that even though the audience has been with the play until this point, attention is flagging. From this point on, the show gets uncomfortable to take. Curtis has found his friend dead, and is devastated. The women who come to take away the body are nonchalant to a fault. He’s given a sheaf of papers that must be signed, and instructions are rattled off. The woman in charge even takes a phone call, while Curtis is given the awful task of trying to give the bad news to Nate’s sister, who still lives in Milwaukee. The scene that follows takes place in a mortuary, and it’s horrific in the mundane approach given to readying the body for burial. Nate is washed, his toenails and fingernails are clipped, and some makeup is supplied. This is all boiler plate for the attendants, who rattle on inanely while doing their work. Finally, there’s the funeral, where Curtis tells a lame joke, and he and Nate’s sister cry. From there, Nate speaks from what is most likely the Great Hereafter. But just as he’s about to tell us what he’s learned, the lights go out. Author Adam Bock has reached his goal of shocking and rocking the audience, but at the price of alienating nearly everyone in the house. The last half of the play comes across as ghoulish rather than poignant. Director Anne Kauffman is fighting a losing battle at keeping the action moving, but she has employed some cool tricks to keep us interested. She’s greatly aided by Scenic Designer Laura Jellinek, who literally flips the stage from the rather dull apartment, complete with orange couch, dark walls, and bonsai tree to everything that follows Nate’s demise. Jessica Pabst keeps the costume design simple, with a casual outfit and plaid over shirt for Nate, to scrubs for the mortuary attendants. This is a difficult show for anyone who has lost a loved one, and tried hard not to think about what actually goes on with the loved one in the funeral process. There are moments in the play that could be done better. But part of the theme is that life is fleeting, and no one knows what will happen next. Who knows if there’ll ever be another chance to see David Hyde Pierce perform a half-hour soliloquy on stage? And that alone is worth the price of admission.
